


The Demon and the Prophet

by San121



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, I'm so sorry, Mind Control, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, don't fucking look at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San121/pseuds/San121
Summary: Bennet just wanted to hang out with Charlotte with no threat of death. That didn't happen.Rire went out looking for a new "toy". He found a veryinterestingone





	1. The Prophet's Fight

Ashe Bennet Clarkson lays in her bed, her eyes closed and twitching with each image that flashes before her eyes.

_Bleeding out. Guts ripped out. Tortured. Dead._

She hisses a breath out from between her teeth as her hands slowly rip the pamphlet for the Braying Mule apart.

_Choked out. Stabs self in eye. Table saw through head. Dead._

Snarling, she finally tears the pamphlet in half as more images flash past, not all of them holding her own image in these visions.

_Lit on Fire. Eye torn out. Axe to the face. Dead. Alone._

Finally, she opens her eyes with a groan, glaring at the remains of the ruined pamphlet in her hands when Charlotte bursts into her room.

“Benny, finals are done, and we need to _relax_. So, I vote we go to the Snapdragon and you aren’t going to argue because if I don’t get classy dick in my pussy, I’m going to flip my shit,” Charlotte complains, throwing herself across Bennet’s bed.

“How did you get into my apartment?” Bennet asks, sitting up to raise an eyebrow at her classmate. The only reply she gets is a wave of hand and a command of, “Dress up, Benny.” Charlotte pulls herself off the bed to wander into the living room as Bennet closes her eyes again, focusing on tonight. Multiple pathways open to her, letting her see that in every single one of them, a powerful demon will be at the Snapdragon tonight. Her eyes snap back open and she stares blankly at the ceiling as it sets in her mind just how likely it is that Charlotte would peek his interest if Bennet doesn’t do something.

“Well, shit,” she states. After a moment, she gets off the bed and pulls on her nicest clothes, which is only a pair of black dress pants, a white button up and a black vest. Slipping on black flats, Bennet steps into the living room, looking around for Charlotte.

“Lottie? Where did you go?” Bennet calls, pausing when she hears something clink in the kitchen. Striding into the room, Bennet can’t help but smirk as Charlotte frowns at her alcohol-free cabinets.

“Okay, A.B.C. Why don’t you have any booze?” Charlotte whines, moving around the jasmine and chai teas looking for any alcohol she could start the night with. Bennet huffs a laugh, pointing out, “I still have two months before I’m legally able to purchase alcohol. The only reason I’m even allowed in Snapdragon is because my cousin is one of the bouncers.” Charlotte pouts and whines again, slouching on to the table. Bennet leans over and pats her blonde friend on the head before heading back into the living room to grab her keys and wallet. Moments later, Charlotte hurries into the room with her purse and heels.

“Let’s go! I wanna get wasted and get one of us laid, Benny,” Charlotte cheers, strutting out of the apartment while Bennet pauses to lock her door.

“Isn’t that your usual aim any night we go out?” Bennet drawls, twisting the nob to make sure it’s locked before walking after Charlotte. She sticks her tongue out at the younger woman while keeping up easily, adding a little swing to her hips every time they walk past a boy. No matter the age, Bennet can’t help but muse, Charlotte is turning heads of anyone with a healthy appreciation of the female body. A few blocks pass before they arrive at Snapdragon, pulling out their IDs before slipping into the building. Bennet spots the demon easily, with a pair of sunglasses on in the dim lighting and a tumbler full of scotch. He blends in well, unnaturally so, but she isn’t willing to risk her friend’s life on trying to call up a Battle Priest to take care of him.

“So, we going to our usual table?” Charlotte asks, pointing at the table not too far from the demon. Bennet cringes, glancing around the room before finding a different table, in a corner of the room near the stage.

“How about we go to that one over there?” she offers instead, already walking toward the table, watching the demon from the corner of her eye. Charlotte gives her a confused look, but still follows Bennet to the table. Along the way, Bennet would stop when men stop Charlotte to flirt with her, keeping the demon in the corner of her eye while Charlotte gets promises of free alcohol from at least three different men. Eventually, the two manage to sit at their table of choice for the evening, Charlotte pleased with herself as five cups arrive at their table, three full of rum and coke and two full of water.

“So, why are we at this table instead of our usual,” Charlotte asks, sipping one of the alcoholic drinks as she looks around the lounge for her next victim. Bennet knows that Charlotte doesn’t believe that she can see the branches of the future, but Charlotte listens to her gut feelings, so…

“Just a gut feeling,” Bennet answers, with a shrug. Charlotte hums as Bennet sips on one of the waters, before turning back to the center of the room to smile flirtatiously at a waiter who walks past them. Bennet finally lets her eyes wander across the room, looking at all the beautiful or powerful people in the lounge, the powerful looking for someone beautiful to hang off their arm and the beautiful looking for someone powerful to take care of them. Charlotte’s had her fair share of attempted sugar daddies and she insists that one would do the same for Bennet one day. As she looks, Bennet realizes that the demon king is no longer near they’re usual table.

“My, aren’t you two lovely this evening,” a smooth voice comments behind them, startling both Charlotte and Bennet. Charlotte turns and gasps, flushing prettily at the stranger while Bennet feels her stomach drop. He’s handsome, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a maintained goatee working with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Dressed in all black, gold accents scream wealth while dark sunglasses hide eyes that Bennet is sure matches his accents.

“Oh, ah! Thank you,” Charlotte stutters, flicking her eyes from the demon to Bennet in the shy excitement she gets when she thinks she’s found a match for her friend. Bennet wants to scream that whatever Charlotte is thinking is a terrible idea because _demon king_ , but instead she just looks at Charlotte with disapproval. Ignoring the disapproval Bennet is radiating from her very being, Charlotte smiles up at the demon, introducing the two of them as, “I’m Charlotte and this is Ashe. She prefers Bennet, though.”

“A pleasure to be at your acquaintance,” he tells them with an elegant bow. Charlotte titters, sipping on her second alcoholic drink of the evening while Bennet briefly contemplates looking for the one future where the demon leaves them alone.

“So, what’s your name, handsome?” Charlotte purrs, looking through her eyelashes. The demon smiles carefully at her, Bennet notes, his lips covering his teeth.

“Perhaps you can guess a name for me? I am curious as to what you believe my name is,” he offers, pulling out a chair to sit at their table.

“Oh! Hmm… I’m thinking, like, a Richard or Leon. What do you think, Benny?” Charlotte throws out, turning to Bennet excitedly. After contemplating not answering, Bennet sighs and, with a glance into a different path (one that would have happened to someone else if they hadn’t gone to Snapdragon), throws out the name, “Rire.”

“…That sounds dirty,” Charlotte comments, squinting at Bennet as the demon, Rire, chuckles.

“But, it is correct. My name is Rire, though I am curious as to how you could even guess my name,” he trails off, looking at Bennet in interest. Her gut clenches with regret, but Bennet still looks him in the eye and tells him, as calmly and as blandly as possible, “I can see the future. Knew you were going to be here and knew your name.” Rire raises an eyebrow at the tone while Charlotte groans, letting her head drop on to her arms.

“Holy shit, Benny, stop killing your chances,” Charlotte complains against the table, before lifting her head to tell Rire, “she can’t see the future, she just has really good guesses.” Rire hums, turning to Bennet with a smile, one that screamed interest and made Bennet want to run out of the jazz lounge.

“I find her proclamation of seeing the future interesting. Tell me, is it set in stone? Or can it change on a whim?” Rire asks, leaning against the table to turn his head toward Bennet. She swallows nervously, feeling the pressure of Rire’s presence as he stares down at her.

“It branches,” Bennet answers hesitantly, glancing at Charlotte nervously before continuing, “There is no real fate as long as there are options to be given and to be taken. If one believes in fate, then some paths close while other paths open.” Rire hums, appearing thoughtful to anyone else and calculating to Bennet. Charlotte groans and stands up from the table, taking the final alcoholic drink with her as she walks to the bar, mumbling about being ‘too sober for this mystic bullshit’. Once she is out of ear shot, Rire grins cruelly, revealing sharp teeth.

“Tell me, little prophet, did you expect to speak with a demon king tonight?” he asks, sliding his glasses down enough to flash yellow eyes at Bennet.

“I don’t know, were you planning on speaking to us as soon as we walked through the door?” she snaps back, looking Rire in the eye as a tendril of something rubs up her leg underneath the table. Rire’s grin grows, before he closes his lips over his mouth and flips his sunglasses back over his eyes. The tendril disappears off of Bennet’s leg before he stands up and strides around the table, holding his hand out to her.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more… comfortable to continue this conversation,” he tells her, a softness to his tone hiding the veiled threat she knows is there. Looking at his hand warily, Bennet grasps the hand and allows herself to be pulled out of her seat. The two walk through the lounge, Bennet catching Charlotte’s eye as she leaves with Rire. Charlotte grins and makes a vulgar gesture, giggling when a man beside her flushes brilliantly. Bennet only gives her friend a shaky smile as Rire leads her outside, a smug smirk on his face as men and women glare at Bennet in jealousy. The pair walk toward Bennet’s apartment, Rire’s hand on her shoulder, possessively tight each time they pass another being. Arriving at the building she lives in, Bennet unlocks the front door, tensing when Rire leans down to ask, “Do you have a fear, little prophet? Are you scared of anything, or should I guess?”

“I would like a little space so I can focus on the lock,” Bennet snaps, fumbling with her keys as her hands tremble minutely. Rire draws back, enough that Bennet is able to unlock the front door. She hurries inside, glancing over her shoulder as the demon strolls into the apartment building behind her. Pressing the up button, Bennet jumps as Rire leans by her ear again, pondering, “How wet will you be for me once we are in your apartment? Enough that it won’t be painful, or will you still cry?”

“Is it too much to ask you to not be an ass in public?” Bennet blurts, glaring at Rire. The demon pulls back and raises an eye brow at her as the elevator opens in front of them. Entering the small space, Bennet moves to the side close to the buttons, pressing the third floor button while glancing at Rire from the corner of her eye. He stands a respectful distance from her, focusing on the door of the elevator. The trip up is silent, save for Bennet’s nervous shifting, until a sharp bell rings out, indicating their arrival. Suddenly, Rire is beside her, his hand on her waist as he ushers her out of the elevator and into the hallway. In an attempt to get away from him, Bennet lengthens her stride to get out of Rire’s grasp and into her apartment quickly. To the end of the hall, last door on the right, Bennet pulls out her key and unlocks the door, rushing into the apartment and locking the door behind her. Standing at the door, she waits, listening for anything on the other side of the door. When she doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, Bennet releases a breath and sags her shoulders in relief.

“You have terrible taste in tea,” a man’s voice drawls from her kitchen, startling Bennet and making her spin around. Rire frowns at the blend in a jar, tapping his finger against the glass. Bennet works her mouth for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around how he could have gotten inside before sighing in resignation.

“I almost want to ask how you got in here, but then again, I don’t want to know,” Bennet groans, walking over to the kitchen and snatching the jar from Rire. Reaching up to put it back, she stops at the feeling of Rire’s hands running up her sides.

“Do you want something, little prophet? Tell me what you want. I might just grant it,” Rire whispers into her ear as he rubs himself against her. Bennet grits her teeth as arousal floods her at Rire’s words. Her brain is screaming to tell him to fuck himself even as her mouth opens to gasp and moan. Rire presses his lips against her throat, smiling as his tentacles wrap around her legs and hips.

“Rire, you-” Bennet gasps, arching her back as his hands slide from her hips to her breasts, squeezing and rubbing at them through her clothes.

“Is there a problem, little prophet?” he coos into her ear, his tentacles rubbing her thighs and stomach. Bennet manages to glare at him before gasping when his fingers brush over her nipples. His grin seems to grow against her neck as he massages her breasts while the tentacles brush past her pants, pushing them down along with her underwear.

“You son of a bitch,” Bennet hisses, clinging helplessly to the cabinet Rire pulled the tea from as he pulls away long enough to undo his pants before thrusting into her. Bennet grits her teeth, growling as a tentacle pushes against her mouth. Rire hums appreciatively, leaning his head against her shoulder as he idly thrusts, running his hands over the buttons on her vest and shirt.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, starting to unbutton Bennet’s vest.

“I-You-Shit-Do,” Bennet sputters, fighting with the instinct to agree with him while cursing at him. Rire hums again, more curious as his hands stop.

“So, you aren’t so easily controlled,” he murmurs near her ear, almost to himself. Bennet gasps when he pushes into her harshly, clawing at the cabinet desperately. Rire chuckles, pulling away from Bennet’s ear to start really fucking her, his tentacles ripping through the rest of her vest, shirt, and bra. Bennet cries out, turning her head to glare at Rire as best she can while he continues to fuck her. He returns her glare with a grin, before striking her wrists with some tentacles. Yelping, Bennet releases the cabinet, only to fall face first onto the counter beneath her. Swearing at the pain from her nose, she pushes herself up, watching helplessly as blood drips out of her nose.

“You asshole,” she snarls, grabbing a knife on the counter and swiping it blindly behind her. A hand catches her wrist before twisting and pinning her arm to her back. Bennet hisses in pain before his other hand touches the back of her head and slams it back onto the counter.

“My, my, my. You have a lot of fight in you, little prophet. Tell me, dear, have you ever felt a knife pierce you?” Rire asks, a tentacle pulling the knife from her hand and stabbing her in the thigh. Bennet shrieks, tightening around his dick in pain, which only seems to encourage him. The knife is pulled out and a tentacle worms its way into her wound, getting a snarl from Bennet as tears escape her eyes.

“Piss off, damn it,” Bennet sobs, blood and tears mixing on the counter as Rire picks up his pace. Abruptly, Rire stops and Bennet feels his release inside her, paling at a stray thought.

“No, no, no. Shit. BASTARD!” Bennet sobs, pulling against Rire and his tentacles. Slowly, he releases his hold on her, stepping back as she collapses to the floor, crying and pissed.

“Oh, calm down. You can’t have my children, so there is nothing to be too worried about,” Rire tells her, stepping around her to enter the living room. Bennet collects herself as best she can, focusing on any potential future she has while dealing with Rire. To her relief, he’s telling the truth, as any child she can find tied to her has no demonic energy or demonic inclination (except one, but they are fathered by a red haired man with intelligent green eyes, not the asshole in her living room). With that truth comforting her, Bennet stands and wobbles into the living room, nude like the day she was born. Seeing Rire sitting in the recliner, his legs crossed and a teacup full of some kind of tea, Bennet grabs a spare towel out of the closet, spreads it out on the couch, then sits on it. Rire’s mouth twitches in amusement before he lowers his teacup, watching Bennet shift into a comfortable position on the couch.

“Have you calmed down, little prophet?” he finally asks, his tone indicating he doesn’t really care but still wants her to answer.

“Yes,” she growls, glaring at him while clenching her jaw. She shifts forward, all of her focus on him, careful of the still bleeding wound on her thigh. He gives her a smile that sets her on edge.

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want my toy to break yet,” he comments with a nod, sipping delicately from his cup. Bennet bristles at his blatant dismissal. Closing her eyes, she begins to focus, the visions of doors fading into existence behind her eyelids, as she starts to look for a way out of this situation, alive and with her soul intact.

“Oh, how interesting,” she faintly hears Rire mumble before she screams in agony as something digs into her shoulder. Opening her eyes, Bennet looks at her shoulder and snarls as a dark tentacle digs further into her shoulder.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to peek into the future, little prophet. That would be cheating,” Rire tsks, setting his tea down before standing from his seat. Crossing the room, he leans close to her face and grins, twisting the tentacle in a little more.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you to die just yet,” Rire assures her, resting his hand onto her thigh to rub his thumb against the knife wound. Bennet hisses in pain while Rire continues, “You’ve been entertaining so far, and I have a few games I want to play with you still.”

“Really?” she grits out, glaring at him. A small tremor seems to go through his body before the tentacle pulls out of her shoulder to wrap around an ankle. Her hand shoots up to apply pressure to the wound in her shoulder as another tentacle grabs her other ankle while a third tentacle slides against her opening.

“Your glares are beautiful. So full of hate and anger. It’s impressive to see on one as small as you,” Rire praises as the tentacle at her entrance pushes in, getting a gasp from Bennet. He thrusts the tentacle in at a steady pace, causing her to snarl and moan at the conflicting emotions of disgust and pleasure. Rire hums pleasantly, cocking his head to the side as he speeds up the pace of his tentacle, his hand reaching out to move her hand. Bennet clings to her shoulder, clenching her teeth even as the tentacle pushes against her G-spot. Rire sighs, shaking his head slightly before a different tentacle stabs her other shoulder, making her scream and clench around the tentacle inside her.

“There you are, just accept it,” Rire commands, pulling the tentacle out of her to press his cock inside. Bennet gasps again, clenching her eyes shut and hoping that this nightmare of a situation will be over quickly. A soft growl followed by pain jolts Bennet’s eyes open, focusing on the scowling Rire.

“Don’t look away from me, Bennet. I am not done yet,” He growls, his hands clawing at her thighs as he fucks her. Bennet tries to glare at him again, but between the blood loss and the exhaustion from dealing with classes all day, she finds her vision tunneling. Rire’s cock hits her G-spot once, and she climaxes, her eyes rolling back as her vision fades completely into black.

* * *

 

Blinking tiredly, Bennet stares up at the ceiling. Her arms and thigh hurt while her head throbs painfully. Groaning, Bennet sits up in the bed, blinking and looking around the room in confusion.

“How did I end up here?” she mumbles.

“I brought you in here,” a man tells her. Whipping her head to the door way, she sees Rire standing in the door, a tray of food in his hands.

“What the actual fuck?” Bennet sputters, scrambling out of her bed. Rire raises an eyebrow as she falls onto the floor with a yelp of pain. He sets the tray down on the bed and peers over the other side, at Bennet.

“Are you done?” he asks while Bennet demands, “Why am I not bleeding out?” Rire cocks his eyebrow, smirking down at Bennet as she struggles to stand up, her legs still weak from blood loss and maybe the sex.

“I decided you should play one more game with me, so, I fixed you up enough that you can play,” Rire explains, watching as Bennet cautiously climbs on to the bed to look at the tray. Bacon and eggs with fruit and coffee sit innocently on the tray, putting Bennet on edge.

“I don’t remember buying eggs or bacon,” she mumbles, glancing up at Rire through her lashes. He smiles, almost pleasantly at her as she turns her gaze back to her food. Her stomach rumbles, making the food more appealing. After a moment more of hesitation, Bennet picks up the fork and knife to start eating. As she eats, her bed sinks and Rire settles behind her, his hands running over her abdomen and ribs softly. Her skin tingles pleasantly as he rubs her skin idly. Finishing the food, she turns her head to look at Rire. He grins down at her, standing from her bed to tower over her.

“We’re going to play hide and seek, little prophet. If you win, you live.” He tells her. Bennet bites back the urge to tell him that she’s already won, drawling back, “And if I lose, you’ll kill me. I’ve seen a few horror movies in my time to get the gist of it.” Rire pulls back with a huff, of either laughter or offence, Bennet isn’t sure. Instead of replying, he exits her bedroom, leaving her alone.  Glaring at the door, she decides to forgo reading the future, especially at the pull she feels in her shoulder from where he broke her concentration in her early attempt at looking forward.

“Fuck,” Bennet hisses, creeping slowly out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her before sneaking down the hall, peering around the corner. Rire is standing in the middle of her living room, tapping his foot idly with his back to her. Gauging the distance, Bennet sneaks over to the chair along the wall, hiding between the back and the wall. She pauses at the sound of Rire walking toward her before he pauses and turns on the ball of his foot to head to the kitchen. Waiting until she’s sure he is in the kitchen, Bennet shuffles behind the sofa, counting in her head. Suddenly, the sound of a heavy thud echoes from her bedroom before a soft chuckle floats down the hall.

“Good girl,” Rire praises, striding out of her room to the guest room she set up. As he walks away, Bennet hurries into the kitchen, pausing to make sure she doesn’t make too much noise. After a moment, she carefully open the bottom drawer, glad she oiled all of the hinges for occasions like this.

“Here you are,” Rire purrs, startling Bennet to quickly grab one of the glass orbs full of water and throw it at the demon. The glass shatters against his chest, the water hissing at the little skin it hits, but other than that, it has no effect. Rire clicks his tongue in disapproval as a tentacle stabs into her stomach, piercing her flesh and ripping through her intestines.

“You are quite the sore loser,” he sighs, shaking his head. Between the pain and wooziness of blood loss, Bennet can’t help but laugh, a little hysterically.

“I didn’t lose, though,” she wheezes, coughing up some blood. Rire raises an eyebrow, keeping his tentacle in her gut as he pulls her toward him.

“Oh, and how so?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. It must be the blood loss, Bennet decides, because there is no way that the demon is letting her live long enough to explain herself.

“You didn’t get Charlotte. As soon as we walked in, I focused on keeping you away from her. She’s safe from you, so I win. End of story,” she gasps, feeling drowsy. Rire hums, righting his head before a wide grin crosses his face.

“I see,” he says as she falls into unconsciousness again.

* * *

 

A hand is softly caressing Bennet’s face when she wakes. She feels detached when she opens her eyes and sees Rire, his face soft and thoughtful. He leans down and presses a kiss to her mouth, licking at her lips for entrance. Half awake, she opens her mouth willingly, moaning as he explores her mouth with his tongue and her body with his hands. He massages her breasts, humming as she moans into his mouth. He pulls back and licks his lips.

“Shhh, little one. It’s okay,” he hushes, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Her breath hitches and releases in a keen when he bends his head to lick one. He hums, maybe happily as one of his hands trails down her body, skimming her skin and leaving goosebumps behind.

“Such a sweet little human. So loyal, brave, and fierce,” he teases, stroking her clit lightly. Bennet bends off the bed, a high moan leaving her. Rire chuckles, rubbing circles on her clit, watching as she gasps and squirms on the bed.

“Don’t worry, little one. You’ll get your release,” he assures her, finally moving lower to rub at her labia. Bennet moans low, her thighs trying to close around his hand, only to stop when Rire moved between her legs. She blinks and he’s naked, a smirk on his face and his yellow eyes staring down at her.

“Here it comes, my dear,” he tells her, before leaning down and kissing her. She moans into his mouth again when he thrusts in, smooth and soft. This encounter is vastly different from the two before, it feels loving, almost kind. She opens her mouth for answers, only to moan again when he pulls out and thrusts back in.

“You’ve realized it, didn’t you? You can’t deny me, you _crave_ me, don’t you? I admit, this need and submission you feel is my doing. However, this is a kindness I give to no other. You will be mine,” he tells her, picking up his pace. He hits her G-spot over and over, blanking her mind enough to prevent her from fighting his control. The pressure build inside her, pulling breathy moans and long keens from her lips, occasionally drifting into his mouth when he leans down to press an open mouthed kiss to her lips. Abruptly, he pulls out completely, flips her over and thrusts back in. Bennet cries out, feeling her slick slide down her thighs as he continues to fuck into her. Her mind blanks and she feels her release come over her, clenching around his dick with a wordless scream. Snarling, he leans over her and bites into the back of her neck as he cums inside her. At the pain of his teeth in her neck, Bennet passes out once more.

* * *

 

The sun set glares through the window in her apartment, causing Bennet to groan and cover her eyes with her arm. A moment passes before she realizes three things. One, she’s alive. Two, her vagina hurts in an entirely pleasant way. Three, her shoulder hurts like a bitch. Shooting up in her bed, looking around wildly. Rire isn’t there, making a nervous pit appear in her stomach.

“Rire?” Bennet calls, sliding out of bed. Pausing to pull on sweatpants and a loose shirt, she pads into the living room. It’s empty and silent, no noise sounding from the kitchen or anywhere else in the apartment for that matter.

“What the shit?” she mumbles, rolling her healed shoulders, flinching at the sting at the back of her neck. Grumbling, she rubs at the spot, freezing as something wet touches her fingers. Nervously, she pulls her hand away from her neck to look at what the wetness is. The liquid is a dark, almost black red, and it is on her neck. Running to the bathroom, she yanks her neckline to the side and looks in the mirror, watching her reflection pale at the sight of black lines wrapped around her throat, as if someone took a black marker and drew on her skin instead of just biting the back of her neck.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no,” she panics, clawing at the mark, hoping it peels a little. When it doesn’t, she runs out of the bathroom and grabs her shoes. While wrapping a scarf around her neck to hide the mark, she pulls up a map of the city on her phone.

“I need to find a Battle Priest,” she mumbles, fingers moving the map from one church to the next. Finding one with the symbol she knows belongs to the Priests, she pulls up the GPS, grabs her keys and runs out of the apartment, praying she can get rid of whatever shit Rire put in her.


	2. The Demon's Interest

Rire sighs, looking over the cooling corpse of his most recent toy. This one looked interesting, but in the end, was just as painfully boring as many of his toys had been recently. Though, he wouldn’t fault this toy for choosing to alter their body with ink and piercings as everything else about them left much to be desired.

“Not even good at sex, unbelievable,” he sighs, leaving the blood splattered home for anywhere else at the time being. He strides confidently on the street, smiling politely at a mother/daughter pair. The two humans giggle shyly, stroking Rire’s ego and making him contemplate just taking a human from the street. Immediately, he dismisses the thought, walking back to Snapdragon. He passes by the bouncers, who still eye him warily despite never causing an issue in the establishment. Settling at the bar, he waves at the bartender. Without missing a beat, a glass of scotch is slid into his hand. He gives the human a nod and turns to the customers slowly filling in the lounge. Women in nice dresses, men in suits, both mortal and demonic beings blending in together. Rire ignores the few demons who try to speak with him, glaring at one who refuses to take no as an answer before they finally grow tired of his lack of response and leave to find a more reactionary partner.

“Holy shit, is that Charlotte?” a man whispers beside Rire. He raises his eye brow as he looks up to the door. A young woman stands in the door way, looking as if she owns the lounge. Blonde hair falls around her shoulder, with laughing green eyes and a rose red smile. A natural model body wrapped in a dark blue mini dress.

“Damn, she looks amazing as usual,” Rire’s neighbor whines pathetically as Rire sips idly on his scotch. A movement to the young woman’s side catches his eye, drawing his attention. Beside her blonde friend is a plain looking young woman with close-cropped brown hair, wearing the bare bones of the dress code for the lounge. Her eyes scan the room, stopping at him, where brown eyes narrow and flash gold. He fights to keep a straight face as the two walk to the corner of the room furthest from him, occasionally stopping when someone talks to Charlotte, sitting at the table easily. A waiter hurries over to them with a tray carrying three glasses of alcohol and two of water. Silently, Rire maneuvers his way to their table, striding around the table to stand behind the women.

“My, aren’t you two lovely this evening,” he compliments, watching as both jump in surprise. Charlotte flushes beautifully while her companion looks up in dread, an emotion Rire is used to seeing on human only after he’s revealed himself to them.

“Oh, ah! Thank you,” Charlotte stutters. Rire gives her a small smile as she straightens up and introduces herself and her friend, “I’m Charlotte and this is Ashe. She prefers Bennet, though.”

“A pleasure to be at your acquaintance,” he offers with a bow. Charlotte titters while Bennet looks as though she would rather be anywhere but where she is currently. Charlotte shifts a little in her seat, looking up at him through her eyelashes to purr, “So, what’s your name, handsome?” He gives her another smile.

“Perhaps you can guess a name for me? I am curious as to what you believe my name is,” Rire tells them, smirking as Charlotte looks thoughtful and Bennet looks nervous.

“Oh! Hmm… I’m thinking, like, a Richard or Leon. What do you think, Benny?” Charlotte tries, turning to her friend excitedly. Bennet seems conflicted for a moment before she offers, “Rire.”

“…That sounds dirty,” Charlotte comments, squinting at her friend as he chuckles at the almost disgusted noise she makes.

“But, it is correct. My name is Rire, though I am curious as to how you could even guess my name,” he trails off, watching Bennet carefully. She straightens up and looks him in the eyes as best she could before deadpanning, “I can see the future. Knew you were going to be here and knew your name.” Rire can’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow while Charlotte drops her head against her arms on the table with a groan.

“Holy shit, Benny, stop killing your chances,” Charlotte groans from her spot on the table, lifting her head to give Rire an apologetic look while insisting, “she can’t see the future, she just has really good guesses.” Rire hums in thought, turning to Bennet and smiling. The brunette is _interesting_. She tenses under his scrutiny, watching him warily, as he plans out how to tell if she is lying about her precognitive abilities or not.

“I find her proclamation of seeing the future interesting. Tell me, is it set in stone? Or can it change on a whim?” he prods, leaning onto the table as he observes the woman. She swallows nervously, not from a lack of answer so much as a reluctance to answer, that much Rire can tell.

“It branches,” she replies, hesitant in her answer. Rire prevents himself from grinning in glee as she continues after a nervous glance at her friend, “There is no real fate as long as there are options to be given and to be taken. If one believes in fate, then some paths close while other paths open.” He hums, purposely appearing thoughtful while her friend stands from the table, taking her drink with her while mumbling something. Once finally out of earshot, Rire lets the grin that’s been threatening his face the entire evening to split his face. Bennet simply narrows her eyes at him, not afraid nor surprised which confirms her abilities in his mind.

“Tell me, little prophet, did you expect to speak with a demon king tonight?” he asks, sliding his glasses down to get a proper look at the human.

“I don’t know, were you planning on speaking to us as soon as we walked through the door?” she snaps, glaring at him. Rire allows a tendril of ichor to rub up her leg as a spark of absolute fascination burns inside him. His grin grows in pleasure as he pushes his glasses back in place, pulling back his ichor tendril as he raises from his seat. Striding in front of her seat, he holds out a hand for her to take.

“Why don’t we go somewhere more,” Rire trails off before deciding on, “comfortable to continue this conversation.” He watches as she warily looks at his hand before taking it. He pulls her from her seat and leads her from the lounge, ignoring the looks from the other patrons. Once outside, he slides his hand up her shoulder, glaring at any demon who looks at his new toy with any interest. It takes a little time to arrive to an apartment building that she leads them to. She steps up to the door with a set of keys in her hand, still on edge and he can’t stop himself from stepping up behind her.

“Do you have a fear, little prophet? Are you scared of anything, or should I guess?” Rire asks in her ear, grinning at how tense Bennet becomes from the sound of his voice.

“I would like a little space so I can focus on the lock,” she snaps defensively, fumbling with the keys. Rire pulls back and watches as her hands shake while unlocking the front door to the building. His mouth twitches in his amusement when she scampers in, mindful of the glance she sends over her shoulder while he strides inside, following her to the elevators. She presses the up button, giving him more than enough time to lean down and ask, “How wet will you be for me once we are in your apartment? Enough that it won’t be painful, or will you still cry?”

“Is it too much to ask you to not be an ass in public?” Bennet blurts, turning her head enough to glare at him. Rire leans back and raises an eyebrow at the fire she just revealed as the elevator opens. The two enter the elevator, Bennet turning quickly to press the third floor button while Rire stands to the side, giving the human some space to regather herself as the elevator lurches upward. He watches the small screen over the buttons tick up, until it reaches three and dings. Rire moves close to Bennet once again, wrapping his arm around her waist as he hurries her out of the elevator. Abruptly, Bennet speeds up, surprising Rire until he realizes exactly what she plans to do. With a soft chuckle, he manouvers into her apartment before she can shut the door, careful to not be noticed as he makes his way into the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he frowns at the chai and jasmine boxed teas he sees until he comes across some loose tea in a jar. Taking it down, he opens the top to peer inside, scoffing at the vanilla, cinnamon, and oxidized Camellia leaves.

“You have terrible taste in tea,” he drawls as he leans to the side, watching with his frown still in place as the human tenses and spins to face him. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before sighing in defeat.

“I almost want to ask how you got in here, but then again, I don’t want to know,” the little prophet groans, walking toward him and snatching the jar from him. Rire raises an eyebrow at the rudeness of the human before him while she reaches up to return the jar to it’s “proper” place. Cocking his head to the side, he smirks before stepping forward, rubbing his hands up her sides. Bennet tenses under his hands, amusing Rire with her back and forth nature.

“Do you want something, little prophet? Tell me what you want. I might just grant it,” Rire whispers, putting just the slightest bit of power into his words as he presses himself against her bottom, idly rubbing against her while observing her reaction. Her body warms under his hands as she gasps and moans, her reaction between acceptance and anger. Rire smiles as he presses his mouth against her throat, creating ichor tentacles to wrap around her legs and hips, adjusting her posture as her fingers cling to the bottom of her cupboard.

“Rire, you-” he cuts her off by sliding his hands up from where they had settled on her hips to her breast. Bennet gasps as he rubs and squeezes her breast through her clothes, not seeing the grin crossing his face again.

“Is there a problem, little prophet?” he can’t stop himself from cooing, allowing the ichor tendrils to rub her thighs and stomach. She turns her head to glare at him before gasping again when his fingers brush over her nipples. His grin grows as he continues to massage her breasts as his ichor tendrils take off both her pants and underwear.

“You son of a bitch,” Bennet hisses, while Rire pulls back enough to undo his pants before lining up and thrusting into her. He presses a tentacle against mouth, smirking as she growls and clenches her teeth against the probing ichor. Her anger also leads to her tensing, pulling a pleased hum from his throat as Rire leans his head against her shoulder. He idly thrusts as he brushes his hands against the buttons on Bennet’s vest and shirt.

“You like this, don’t you?” Rire presses, unbuttoning her vest as she sputters.

“I-You-Shit-Do,” she finally answers. He doesn’t stop the curious noise leave him as he stills his hands.

“So, you aren’t so easily controlled,” he mumbles to himself, pausing briefly before pushing into Bennet roughly. She gasps at the sensation, clawing pathetically at the cabinet. Rire chuckles, finally straightening up to give her a proper fucking, instructing the ichor to rip through the rest of her clothing, leaving her bare to him. Bennet yelps, turning her head to glare at Rire, only for him to thrust in to her harder. He gives her a grin before, using the ichor tendrils, striking her wrists hard enough to let go of the cupboard. Her upper body falls forward, slamming her nose into the counter beneath the cupboard and a sharp crack sounds in the kitchen. Rire hums in approval as she pushes up and blood drips from her nose.

“You asshole,” Bennet snarls, grabbing a knife that was laying, what he thought was out of reach, on the counter and swings it behind herself, nearly nicking his suit in her attempt at self-defense. He catches her wrist before twisting it and pinning her arm to her back, smirking in amusement. As she hisses in pain, Rire puts his hand on her back and shoves her back against the counter, chuckling in amusement.

“My, my, my. You have a lot of fight in you, little prophet. Tell me, dear, have you ever felt a knife pierce you?” Rire mocks, using an ichor tendril to take the knife from her hand. Moving the knife down, he stabs her with the knife, shuddering in pleasure when she tightens around him and screams. He pushes it in a touch more before withdrawing the knife to replace it with an ichor tendril.

“Piss off, damn it,” Bennet snarls, tears spilling from her eyes and mixing with the blood on the counter. Rire moves faster, ignoring her anger in pursuit of his own release. At the feeling of release he stops, filling her up with his seed, groaning in relief as Bennet begins to panic in his grasp.

“No, no, no. Shit. BASTARD!” she sobs, straining against his hold until he finally decides to release her. He takes a step back and looks at the mortal in front of him. Her face is red from blood and tears as blood leaves the wound on her thigh. His release drips from her vagina, reminding him of a major concern many human women have with unprotected sex.

“Oh, calm down. You can’t have my children, so there is nothing to be too worried about,” he sighs, rolling his eyes as he exits the kitchen for the living room. Sitting in the recliner, he brings forth his preferred tea and sips it. Despite his inability to reproduce with humans, he does have the ability to turn humans into demons that he can impregnate. However, there haven’t been any that he is willing to even try to convert into demons as followers, let alone one to breed. Perhaps, he thinks as the prophet enters the living room, completely nude, he could find a potential dame for an heir. He watches as Bennet goes to a closet, taking out a towel that she lays along the couch, before sitting on the couch herself.

“Have you calmed down, little prophet?” he asks, only asking for formality’s sake.

“Yes,” she grits out through a clenched jaw, glaring at him as shifts toward him, mindful of her wound. Rire gives her smile that seems to set her on edge, as it should.

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want my toy to break yet,” he praises, sipping from his cup. He watches the prophet give him a glare before she abruptly leans back. Looking up, he watches as a faint golden glow seems to peek through her closed eyelids as she slows her breathing. He cocks his head a little as she seems to enter a trance like state.

“Oh, how interesting,” he mumbles, watching her for a moment before deciding that letting her see in to the future would spoil any fun he’ll have. Forming an ichor tentacle, he takes another sip as he stabs her shoulder. Bennet screams beautifully, her eyes shooting open to gaze at the tendril before snapping into a glare at him. He smiles into his cup as he digs the tendril in, pulling a snarl from her.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to peek into the future, little prophet. That would be cheating,” Rire scolds her, setting his tea down to stand and cross the room to the couch. Once in front of her, he twists the tentacle in her shoulder, grinning at her hiss of pain.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you to die just yet,” he assures her, putting a hand onto her wounded thigh. Purposely, Rire rubs his thumb against her wound, listening to her hiss of pain as he continues, “You’ve been entertaining so far, and I have a few games I want to play with you still.”

“Really?” Bennet growls out, glaring up at him with bright, furious eyes. Rire trembles in arousal, wanting to be back in her warmth if only to keep that anger and fight focused on him. Pulling the ichor tendril from her shoulder, Rire creates two more tentacles. Two wrap around her ankles while the third slides against her labia.

“Your glares are beautiful. So full of hate and anger. It’s impressive to see on one as small as you,” he purrs, pushing the ichor inside her. He shivers again at the gasp he draws from his prophet. Starting a steady pace, Rire hums as she snarls and moans at him. Cocking his head to the side, he decides to speed up the tentacle’s thrusts, releasing his cock again as Bennet clenches her jaw and claws at the wound in her shoulder, attempting to stop the blood. He reaches out to pull away the hand, only to watch her cling to the shoulder. Sighing, he creates a fourth tentacle to pierce into her other shoulder. She cries out in pain, clenching erotically around the ichor inside her.

“There you are, just accept it,” he commands her, withdrawing the tendril before pressing in himself. Bennet gasps again, clenching around him deliciously. However, she also shuts her eyes, cringing away from him. With a growl, Rire digs his nails into her thighs, scowling up at her when she opens her eyes.

“Don’t look away from me, Bennet. I am not done yet,” Rire snaps, clawing at his prophet’s thighs as he fucks her. She looks at him, bleary and unfocused but still furious. He thrusts in again, seeming to strike the G-spot inside her, as she climaxes around his cock. She passes out afterward, causing him to release inside her pliant body. Pulling out, Rire sighs in disappointment, looking down at the little human. Her blood leaks out from her wounds, the shoulder wounds pouring more blood out than the wound on her thigh.

“Oh, dear. She needs that, doesn’t she,” he huffs, squinting at the bleeding openings. Easily, he sews up the wounds with ichor, snapping it off the tendrils and watching the magic in the ichor knit the skin and flesh back together. Lightly, Rire traces his fingers over the scars, raising an eyebrow at how smoothly the wounds closed.

“Interesting,” he grins, recalling the few times he did such things to other humans. Sickly black veins surround the wound and pus oozes from the places that didn’t close up just right. On his little prophet, though, her skin is unblemished except for the human discoloration of the scars.

“Very interesting,” Rire hums. Looking down at the woman, he already plans his next game, knowing that she would play prey wonderfully. Picking her up, Rire walks through the apartment, glancing into each room before finding the lived-in bedroom. Laying her delicately on the bed, Rire goes back to the refrigerator, looking for food to make a late breakfast for his toy. Finding only milk and cereal, Rire scowls in disapproval before summoning the proper breakfast foods. Fresh eggs, thick bacon and fresh fruit appear before him, lining up in a way to make the preparation and cooking of breakfast easy on him. Scrambling eggs and frying bacon are reserved to his hands while he idly commands the ichor to cut the fruit into chunks. Plating the food and locating a tray, Rire sets the food up to look aesthetically pleasing before returning to the bed room. Opening the door, he hears Bennet mumble, “How did I end up here?”

“I brought you back in here,” Rire informs her, watching with mild amusement as she whips her head around and flails in shock.

“What the actual fuck?” she sputters, scrambling to get out of her bed, only to tip over the edge and fall with an inelegant yelp. Calmly, Rire sets the tray down on to the bed, mindful of the food and presentation, before peering over the bed, to his little prophet.

“Are you done?” he asks while she snaps, “Why am I not bleeding out?” He cocks an eyebrow, watching with amusement as Bennet struggles to stand up, her legs obviously still too weak to hold her.

“I decided you should play one more game with me, so, I fixed you up enough that you can play,” Rire dismisses, watching his toy climb on to the bed to look at the tray, cautious as she should be. Looking over the tray, she mumbles, “I don’t remember buying eggs or bacon,” while glancing up at him through her lashes. He smiles as pleasantly as he can, which seems to make her uncomfortable. A moment passes before she shyly picks up the knife and fork to begin eating. Watching her eat, Rire decides to pet his toy, show her his pleasure in the way many humans show their own pets. Sitting behind Bennet, he pets her skin on her abdomen. Small bumps appear on her skin as his hands move back and forth. Once she finishes the food, Bennet turns to face him. Standing, he grins down at her while informing her, “We’re going to play hide and seek, little prophet. If you win, you live.”

“And if I lose, you’ll kill me. I’ve seen a few horror movies in my time to get the gist of it,” she snarks at him, still obviously nervous but not backing down. Rire leans back with a huff of laughter, turning and exiting her bedroom. He idles in her living room for a good few minutes, listening for any noise from the bedroom. As minutes pass, he gets irritated, already planning on how to kill the little brat. Moving carefully, he makes it sound as though he is in the kitchen while stalking down the hallway. Arriving at the closed door, he growls low in his throat. Slamming an ichor tendril through the door, he withdraws the tendril to open the door. Inside, there is no one sitting on the bed, with the closet door open and the covers thrown haphazardly enough that he can see under the bed. Realizing his toy got the upper hand on him, Rire chuckled.

“Good girl,” he praises loud enough for her to hear, no matter where in the apartment she is. Striding out of the bedroom, he checks the guest room and bathroom before returning to the hall. Opening the closet door, he hums softly when he hears the soft thud of bare feet headed to the kitchen. Chuckling again, Rire walks into the kitchen, getting a view of his little prophet on her hands and knees.

 “Here you are,” he purrs eagerly. The reaction he gets is a glass of holy water shattering against his chest, lightly burning his collarbone and neck. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Rire stabs her in the stomach, ignoring the scream and gags of pain.

“You are quite the sore loser,” he sighs, disappointed that she got his hopes up enough to even think of her as one of his possessions. She coughs and, surprising enough, laughs, just a little hysterically.

“I didn’t lose, though,” she wheezes around a torn gut, coughing up blood. Rire raises an eyebrow as he brings her closer, using the tendril in her gut to keep her at eye level.

“Oh, and how so?” he demands, cocking his head to the side. She blinks slowly at him, before a grin crosses her face. Briefly, Rire wants to kiss that bloody, self-assured grin right off his toy’s face.

“You didn’t get Charlotte,” she gasps, bringing the image of Bennet’s lovely blonde friend to Rire’s mind, “As soon as we walked in, I focused on keeping you away from her. She’s safe from you, so I win. End of Story.” Rire hums, looking at the human in front of him. A prophet who’s loyal enough to die for her friend, with the fire and guts to fight what fear she has to do what she believes is right. Pretty and small, her personality makes her nearly impossible to ignore. Rire rights his head and grins, ecstatic at the idea of breaking her.

“I see,” he tells her, watching her pass out again. Carefully withdrawing the ichor, he stitches her body together, watching intently as her body heals together properly. Once she’s back together, Rire gathers her back into his arms and carries her back into her bedroom. It takes a little bit of energy to place a charm over his prophet, and a little more to force her awake enough to be… “consenting” to this right. Reluctant as he is to admit, he has never performed a marking before. All the other toys he played with he didn’t want to keep, but this little prophet is _interesting_.

“How fun,” he murmurs, sitting on the side of her bed. Lightly rubbing his hand on Bennet’s face, he watches as glazed over brown eyes blink open. His gut clenches at the confused detachment his charm forced on his little toy, already missing her fire and fight. Leaning down, he ignores his disappointment to give her a proper kiss. She moans eagerly, arching against his body as he traces patterns on her body with his hands. Finding a breast with one hand, he brings his other hand up to massage both mounds of flesh at the same time. Bennet moans against his mouth again, causing Rire to hum in pleasure. Pulling away, he hears her whine in disappointment.

“Shhh, little one. It’s okay,” he assures her, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Her breath hitches in her throat, escaping in a keen when Rire decides to lick one of her nipples. He hums, pleased with her reaction as his hand trails down her body, raising goosebumps as it passes.

“Such a sweet little human. So loyal, brave, and fierce,” he teases softly, stroking her clit ever so slightly. His little prophet arches up again, a high moan escaping her throat while he chuckles and continues to rub her clit in small circles.

“Don’t worry, little one. You’ll get your release,” Rire promises, finally moving his hand lower to rub her labia. Her pretty mouth parts with a moan while her legs close as best they can around his hand. Rire raises an eyebrow, removing his clothes and settling between her legs. He watches as the glazed look fades a little in her eyes, smirking in pleasure as his toy fights the charm he placed over her.

“Here it comes, my dear,” he warns, before leaning down to distract her with a kiss. She moans against his mouth as he marvels at how different she feels with the “consent”. Smooth and soft while still so very tight, he almost regrets not trying to charm her earlier for a round of “love making”. He pulls back, catching sight of her eyes again. The glaze from the charm is mostly gone, but lust is prominent in her eyes. She opens her mouth, only to moan instead of what ever she was planning to do when Rire gives a rather hard thrust into her.

“You’ve realized it, didn’t you? You can’t deny me, you _crave_ me, don’t you? I admit, this need and submission you feel is my doing. However, this is a kindness I give to no other. You will be mine,” he snarls at the end, giving another hard thrust before picking up the pace. After trying a few different angles, he finds her G-spot and starts abusing it, watching in awe as the back-talking prophet turns into his personal whore, moaning and crying out in pleasure. He doesn’t stop the impulse to give her multiple open mouthed kisses, purring low in his throat as she continues to moan. As his release builds again, Rire withdraws and flips his toy onto her hands and knees before thrusting back in, smirking at the pleased cry from his little slut. Abruptly, she clenches tightly around his dick, orgasming from the fierce fucking he is giving her. Snarling, Rire bends down and bites down on the back of her neck as he releases once more inside her. Once he finishes, Rire leans back and watches as Bennet collapses underneath him, the teeth marks on her neck darkening until they match the color of his ichor and then spread to match his mark.

“There you are, Darling,” Rire coos at the unconscious woman, tracing his mark around her neck idly. She sighs in her sleep, her expression peaceful as Rire draws back. Deciding to leave her to whatever she did before he found her, Rire redresses and idly peers through his King Links for something to do. At the image of a Gambler trying to get around an exorcist, Rire decides that looks like something fun to watch.

“I’ll see you soon enough, little prophet,” he whispers, nipping at the sleeping woman’s ear, before pulling her covers over her, turning and leaving the apartment.


End file.
